


A Dark Red Night

by AristocatSlippers



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mention of blood, sort of angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 16:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16044698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristocatSlippers/pseuds/AristocatSlippers
Summary: Edward always comes to her injured.. and Winry always helps him, even when it scares her.Based on the prompt "Is that blood?" "... No"





	A Dark Red Night

**Author's Note:**

> Filled a prompt from my tumblr floweryfandomnerd and thought I'd post it here

Edward staggers dizzily through the door to his hotel room, slamming it shut behind him with the hand that isn't clutching his side.

Safe inside, he slumps against the wall and lets himself slide down to the floor, wincing in pain as he moves. His shirt sticks to his skin, wet and more than stinging as he peels it away from his torso. He can't see just how bad it is in the dark, and, with the adrenaline that had numbed his senses earlier wearing off, it hurts far too much to even attempt to reach up to turn it on. Not that it matters - the light switches on of its own accord a moment later anyway.

"Edward?" Winry questions, bleary-eyed and sitting up in the room's singular bed.

Snapping his attention to her, Ed curses quietly - he'd taken refuge in the wrong room.

"Sorry," Edward says, he lets go of his side, pushing himself to stand up and walk out of the door rather than disturb her rest further.

His hand leaves a red mark on the carpet behind him, he'd ignore it in his own room, but in Winry's he claps and quickly uses alchemy to remove the stain.

"Is that blood?"

"... No." He lies to her, turning the doorknob and struggling to the room next door. He switches on the light, planning to take a genuine look at his wound but he doesn't really get the chance.

Between his dizziness and tripping over whatever mess he's left lying around the floor, Edward finds himself collapsed on the floor in a blur. The impact only makes his injury more unbearable and he thinks that he must have hit his head somewhere because the room won't stop spinning, it'd be a miracle if he could get up.

Flinging the door open, Winry bursts into the room, shouting worriedly, heedless of the fact that it's the middle of the night. She kneels at his side and turns him over to check he's okay, Ed would protest if her name would come out as anything more than a weak whisper, whether she hears him or not, Winry still undoes the buttons of his shirt and tries to free it from the sticky mess that it clings to.

Apologising when he winces, Winry wipes away some of the blood with an alcohol wipe that Ed didn't even notice she'd brought with her. It doesn't stop bleeding no matter what she does, but she cleans away enough blood that she can finally actually see just how bad it is, why does he always come to her bleeding? She takes one look and nearly retches, “Oh hell,” she cries, swallowing back the bile.

Edward shifts slightly, trying to see for himself but instead gives up, “Winry?” he asks weakly, his voice barely even sounding.

Winry shakes her head, slapping her cheeks and wiping her tears to clear her thoughts. Shakily unravelling the bandage, she wraps it around his torso gently after putting a large amount of gauze over the cut and makes sure to secure it over his shoulder so that it doesn't slide out of place. Checking over the quality of her first aid, she finds it difficult to ignore just how pale he is, or how he's stopped responding to her touch at all, or maybe worst of all is that his chest struggles to rise properly and she starts to wonder just how much blood he's lost.

“Edward?” She asks, her voice broken and uneven, “Can you hear me?”

His eyelids flicker slightly and his brows furrow, but beyond that she gets no response. Falling unconscious is something she doesn't want him to do, Winry worries he might not wake up if he does. In all honesty, she should take him to the hospital, he could need a blood transfusion and she wouldn't be able to give him one. Could she get him there? Would it even be possible for her to without being asked questions? Gosh, she has no idea how she would answer any questions, he didn't even tell her what he was doing! Again. Investigating something on his own, at least. Never telling her why or what, just coming to her halfway dead. Edward just isn't fair in the slightest.

Still, even if he isn't fair, she can't just leave him on the floor. For someone so small, Edward is heavier than she expects, maybe it's all the compact muscles or maybe it's the too-heavy automail that contributes to the weight. Either way, she struggles to lift him, eventually she slips an arm under his legs and back and carries him bridal style to the bed. It's not exactly intentional, but she unceremoniously dumps him on the bed, resulting in a dull thud and the squeaking of the mattress springs. At least he's on the bed, that's a start. Winry pulls the covers over him and pulls up a chair next to where he sleeps. He looks… peaceful, somehow. Winry sits back in the chair, watching over him with concern.

She isn't exactly sure what she'll tell Alphonse when he comes back to East City after he finishes looking into something at Central Library. Maybe she can have him healed before then. That's a vain hope, she knows it the second she thinks it. If only Ed weren't so reckless. Winry glances back towards him, away from the space she had been staring at as she zoned out and sighs. Taking his hand - the real one made of flesh and blood - Winry settles herself properly in the chair and closes her eyes. There's no way she's leaving him before morning. 

: : : 

As expected, when Winry wakes it's about eight in the morning and Ed still isn't awake. He doesn't really look much better but his breathing seems easier and that's a start.

“Edward?” she says, getting no response from him at all. Still unconscious. It makes her worry but when she squeezes his hand, hoping against hope that he'll be okay, he squeezes back.


End file.
